HOLLAND, Mich. – We’re still waiting for Wes Leonard’s death to make sense, but it never will. Still waiting for answers, but they won’t come.

Still looking for the moral of the story, but it doesn’t exist.

Wes Leonard, the All-American high school kid, died after hitting the winning layup in a basketball game Thursday to save a perfect season.

His team celebrated with him, hoisted him. And next thing you knew he was on the court, dying or dead.

On Monday, his team, Fennville High, played in the first round of the Michigan Class C state championship tournament, with the Leonard family’s blessing. Players were crying before the game and they were crying after.

In between, they showed uncommon courage in mourning. They beat Lawrence 65-54, and the inexplicable ride doesn’t end. School is canceled Tuesday for Leonard’s funeral.

"No, I’m just here as a ..." he said. "They showed me you can rise up."

The game was about courage, yes. But even moreso it was about the best that sports and community can offer. It was all the good things and values we forget about sometimes.

The basketball world is hung up on whether LeBron James can make a clutch shot, and whether super-rich superstars should be able to form their own teams and snub their original fans. Well, on Monday, Lawrence and Fennville players, all from small towns, sat together before the game for dinner.

Lawrence’s players came out for pregame warmups in T-shirts that said "NEVER FORGOTTEN" on the front, and on the back: "LEONARD 35."

Fennville then walked out in rows of three, arm-in-arm, with Leonard’s brother, Mitchell, who isn’t on the team, front row, center.

You know the pregame handshakes? Forget it. They were full hugs. Each player hugged each player.

Fennville’s Shane Bale was crying. Adam Siegel, too. And he went on to lead the team with 22 points.

How on earth did they do this? They were falling apart just minutes before the game.

"Wes would have wanted to win," Siegel said. "I wanted to win. He’s a big, strong guy so I tried to be a big, strong guy for him."

Yes, but you took over the game while playing with four fouls.

"Wes always had fouls, too."

He smiled slightly.

They were supposed to play this game at Lawrence High, but its gym holds only about 800 people, and that wasn’t going to be enough to say goodbye. So Lawrence agreed to give up a home game in the state tourney, and allowed this one to be at Hope College, a religious school about 50 miles away. It easily sold out its 3,500-seat arena, and even had to turn people away. The town of Fennville has 1,400 people.

Hope is an unsung hero, allowing for free use of its arena. Its staff donated time to run the game. The school even provided buses for both teams and some fans.

See? The whole night was about compassion, competition, community. It was sports and sportsmanship.

You don’t put those things all together in sports anymore, do you?

Sometimes, it takes the worst to bring out the best.

Leonard was a 16-year old kid, the star on the basketball team, the star quarterback on the football team. Blond hair, good-looking, healthy and strong.

How could he have just dropped dead? Well, we do hear stories like this.

Leonard had an enlarged heart, and he died just one day before the 21st anniversary of the death of Hank Gathers, the former Loyola Marymount player who dropped on the court.

Bo Kimble, the other star on that Loyola team, has founded the 44 For Life Foundation, which raises awareness of heart disease in Gathers' memory. Kimble pushes for athletes to have checkups, and for sporting venues to have defibrillators.

He drove overnight from Philadelphia to Holland, so he could spread his message and talk to the boys at Fennville.

"Made it with 45 minutes to spare," he said. "It’s supposed to be a 13-hour drive, but that’s without two snowstorms and a rainstorm."

Kimble told the players that they won’t forget Leonard and shouldn’t want to. He said he got through the grief of Gathers by thinking of several positive things about him every time dark thoughts came up.

Shortly before the game, Leonard’s parents, Gary and Jocelyn, arrived, and received a standing ovation. Leonard’s uncle, Jim, crying off and on after the game, said they had been sheltered and didn’t know Wes’ story had captured the nation’s psyche.

"Until today," he said, "they had no idea."

They not only saw mobs of reporters and TV cameras crowding the team, but also they couldn’t have missed the large sign that read: "In memory of Wes Leonard and in support of the Fennville Community. From the Lawrence Tigers Family." Signatures covered it.

Hundreds of fans wore shirts with pictures of Leonard, or words about him. One woman held a sign with a picture of a basketball with wings.

Only four players took the court to start the game. And then, immediately, one player was subbed in.

So why did this high school kid connect with us? It’s because of the sudden highs and lows all mixed into one. Last-second victory and perfect season mixed with sudden death.

We identify with Leonard. He could be the kid you pay to shovel your driveway.

We all know him. We see him every day, and wave hello.

We lost a piece of ourselves when he died. And there are no drugs to blame, or bad behavior. It goes against what we stand for and believe in.

It’s one of the hardest possible lessons for Fennville. Yet, really, there is no lesson.